Whom Gods Destroy
by Cephras
Summary: Broken after the events of Journeys End, the Doctor finds himself on a Commerce Planet face to face with another broken soul. He finds himself on Moya, separated from the Tardis. Can the Doctor and John Crichton heal each other enough to move foward?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Farscape or Doctor Who. They belong to their respective owners.

**Chapter One**

The Doctor stood on the busy commerce planet, absently nodding to the shop keepers furiously clicking comments about the authenticity of the Barkarian Daemon Root that hung in his carefully held out hand. The red sky gleamed with the polluted smoke that clogged up the atmosphere.

It was mere days since the Doctor left Donna happily chatting on her mobile about something or other while the Doctor snuck away unseen, clenching his jaw trying to hold the overwhelming emotion at bay. He left Earth immediately, going from planet to planet, making sure that each one was devoid of life. It was not long before his need for social contact forced him to a populated area once more. At least on a commerce planet in the Uncharted Territories there was no familiar face in sight.

Turning over the charm in his hands, the Doctor knew for a fact that every object on the table was fake, in fact he said so before the large tentacled shopkeeper narrowed his eyes and immediately started clicking his tongue in indignant protest.

"I tell you, sir, that everything you see here are pure examples of the priceless artifacts of the now extinct colonies of Barkar! What you hold in your hands is yave of the yovo! I bet my thirteen wives on that fact."

Any other day, the Doctor would have engaged in his usual rambling monologues about the Barkarian culture, but these days, he could not bring up the interest that was so usual to him. Instead, the Doctor nodded politely and handed the root back to the merchant before he turned and walked away.

* * *

Only a short distance away, Commander John Crichton, former IASA astronaut, dropped the appropriate amount of currency on the counter before him and grabbed his new Chakan oil. He turned to his companions with a curious glance at their purchases before the dour tones of D'Argo caught his attention.

"Pilot said we should only stay for a couple arns at best. This is Peacekeeper-controlled space and we are only here to get the essentials. That means no lingering or flirting." The luxan threw a pointed look at Chiana, one that she returned with interest. John bit his lip in amusement as he watched the Nebari slink off to join Zhaan. This left himself, D, and Aeryn as Rygel refused to join them if the visit was timed. Crichton agreed with D'Argo. The danger of being noticed was too great and it was only desperation on their part that brought them to the planet. It was only a solar day since they had a need and an opportunity to replenish their supply.

More importantly, it was barely a few weeks since he was found next to the messy carcass of the Scarran who held him prisoner. It was hard to get past the images that the ordeal raised in him. John still found himself sitting in his bed, terrified that he was still inside the fevered dreams constructed by those Godzilla wannabes. He desperately needed a break, a vacation from his life. Since that hope was impossible, some time of boring shopping was enough.

The experience was so close to him that it was of no surprise that the sight of the tall, skinny man in the earth bound clothes striding to the nearby alley turned him red-faced with fury and fear. John immediately drew his pulse pistol; full of his newly-bought Chakan Oil, and shouted for Aeryn and D'Argo. Uncaring whether or not his friends were behind him, Crichton rushed towards the alley, ignoring any passerby that were unfortunate enough to stand in his way.

* * *

Reaching into his pocket for his keys, the Doctor froze as he heard the soft cocking of a gun that was unfortunately pointed at his neck.

"Turn around. Slowly."

The voice was male… and very angry. The Doctor slowly turned around and raised his arms in surrender. The voice belonged to a tall, leather-clad man with spiked brown hair and a fierce glare. The Time Lord swallowed slightly before quickly taking in his situation.

"Do I know you? I seem to be rubbish at putting names to faces these days. I remember when­­—." His rambling was cut off when the stranger nudged his weapon, a Pulse Pistol by the looks of it, forcefully at him before speaking.

"Shut up! Are you messing with me?! Well get in line, man! That little outfit isn't fooling me one bit! Is it Scarrans? I bet you guys are just aching for another bite of the Crichton buffet!"

The Doctor paused at the rant before noticing the conversation was joined by two new people. The first was a woman with a military style ponytail holding another pulse pistol with discipline. Her black outfit, also leather, completed the image of a Peacekeeper Commando. Yet, she exuded familiarity and care for the two who stood by her that contradicted Peacekeeper Ordinance. The second was a tall luxan with tattoos that showed him to be a general. His collarbone was pierced with two metal rings that symbolized captivity in the male's past. He held a Qualta Blade with warrior skill and again stood protective of his companions.

The woman stepped forward before stopping slightly behind the first stranger, running her falcon like gaze up and down the Doctor's body. He forced himself to relax, trying to give a show of innocence that came so easily in this regeneration.

"Crichton! What's going on! You're bringing unwanted attention on us. Who is this?"

The man, Crichton apparently, turned to the Peacekeeper quickly. His gun stood still, fixed on the Doctor.

"You can see him?" Crichton started shaking, his eyes widening with desperation as he shot his companions frantic looks. The other two exchanged confused glances before the luxan spoke up.

"Of course, John." The Doctor took this moment to try to salvage the situation.

"That's right. I'm real. Really real. Absolutely harmless. See, no weapons on me. Except of course the weapons that you have on me. Beautiful Qualta Blade by the way. Brilliant artistry. Anyway, if you would be so kind as to let me go, I will be leaving."

"He talks too much for a Peacekeeper. He's more like your kind, Crichton." The man shot her a look.

"I do _NOT_ talk this much. Aeryn, he's wearing a suit, with chucks! No one here wears suits much less sneakers. Guys, come on! Work with me here!"

"And that makes you cause a commotion, in front of any Peacekeepers around? Because you don't like his clothes?"

"If I may interrupt—"

The three glared at the Doctor, shouting at him to shut up in unison. He immediately backed off. The man turned his attention back on him, eyes narrowed. The Doctor saw in them a mixture of hate and fear and slight insanity. He knew then that there was something extremely wrong.

"It's the Scarrans again." That got immediate reaction. Aeryn, the soldier, walked up to the shaking man and placed a careful hand on his arm, pushing his gun down slowly.

"He's really there John. I don't know if he is a threat or not like you think, but you are not back there. They don't have you."

John swallowed thickly, still a look of paranoia in his eyes. The Doctor dropped his surrender and stood still, for once staying silent in the face of the man's turmoil. The Time Lord knew that nothing he said, no matter how brilliant, was going to change the situation for the better. After a long pause, Crichton turned to the luxan, his voice harsh and sharp.

"D, you know that nothing that happens to us is for our benefit or a coincidence. Either he is messing with our frelling heads or he's working for the Big Cheese. Scorpius, Delvians, Scarrans, the Wicked Witch of the West, who cares!? I'm tired of getting my brain string cheesed! The get-John-to-think-he's-on-Earth trick ;is gett'n old, man!"

The Doctor held his tongue reluctantly, his jaw twitching as the words fought to escape. It would be no good to bait a suspicious and trigger-happy ticking time bomb. He knew that from experience.

"John, what do you want to do? Bring him aboard Moya? What if you're right and he is dangerous, even more, if he is working for Scorpius or anyone else like him? We have been through this before, taking prisoners never ends well."

The Doctor turned to Aeryn, she was calm, but he could see the tension she carefully held in check. The man was being placated like a caged, frightened animal. What happened to him to cause this? After a moment's pause, the Doctor reflected on the man's name. With the name "John Crichton" in his mind, the Doctor did a couple of quick calculations concerning the date and winced inwardly. He landed in the worse time to bump into the famous astronaut. If he was right, the human was standing on the brink of the abyss, closer and closer to the edge. It was too familiar. His knowledge was limited, but what he knew was enough.

The Doctor studied the bloodshot eyes of a survivor and with a shiver the Doctor realized he was staring into a mirror image of himself. Those blue-green eyes held the same yearning for peace and the same near insanity brought on by life splitting experience. He had to say something, anything.

"You've been through the wars." His voice came out rough and slightly hoarse with emotion. John didn't relax, however, and glared once more at the Time Lord while the other two exchanged glances.

"You would know."

The Doctor refused to raise to the challenge and simply shook his head, his arms held before him palms up.

"I'm not your enemy. Really, honestly, I'm not. I'm just a traveler. A sightseer. A tourist. I was just leaving. You can trust me on that."

* * *

John studied the earnest stranger before him and scowled.

"I don't know why, but I believe you." He hesitated before letting out a hiss of anger and raised his gun once more.

"Are you messing with me? You expect me to let you go running back to your buddies!? Who do you think you are?" His friends were forgotten as he studied the large brown doe eyes, searching for any ulterior motives.

The man's eyes grew wide and his voice guileless as he breathed, "Why would I do that?"

John was then caught by the innocence of the man. He was not unlike that of a child. His eyes were too big and too trusting. He looked out of place in this big bad universe. The sight was like his own nature a year ago, stumbling around the galaxy, clueless of the evil that existed until the very same cruelty teared into him before spitting his trembling body to the ground in rejection, leaving him broken and cold. His own experience taught him that this man was messing with his brain like everyone else in his ever-growing list of enemies. His instinct, however, told him that the stranger was too much like himself.

John remembered standing face to face with the angry face of Bialar Crais; the man who accused him with the murder of his brother, Tauvo. John could remember the all-too naïve thoughts that maybe, just maybe, they could talk out their problems and get past the misunderstanding. Only months of running and hiding from Crais' Command Carrier, being forced to go through the torture of the Chair created in the human a deep-set cynicism and paranoia about strangers. Even now, he would find himself weeping in the dark over the loss of his innocence.

The tall man was similar in another respect; he was broken. The dark eyes were a little too bright, the smile a little too forced to be real. The pain was deeper than his own. The desperate air to the thin form was painfully easy to find in his own. There was a deep-set sense of guilt, frighteningly sharp and strong. Crichton, suddenly, could no longer hold his precious Winona on the man. With a tired and frustrated sigh, John dropped his arm.

The sound of his name brought him out of his thoughts. He looked at the confused eyes of the man, a man who although he looked suspicious, also looked so good and honest that he _had_ to trust him.

"Go." Letting the man leave may have been a stupid idea, but now that John looked at the earnest guy, he had no reason for suspicion.

Apparently D'Argo didn't agree. The luxan's tongue whipped out of his mouth, hitting the man on the neck before pulling back. Crichton stood, watching his friend throw the unconscious body over the wide shoulder before running out of the alley. With no other choice, John followed the two all the way to the transport pod. Aeryn answered his unspoken question.

"We've been here too long, We followed you to let you know that we were spotted. If we left him there he could have told them who we are. He saw us. Besides, you two can continue your little conversation on Moya."

"I get it Aeryn, but that doesn't mean I have to like it." He felt a little guilty over kidnapping the guy, even if it was necessary.

Besides, the man's ship would still be here when they came back. If they came back.

* * *

After the transport pods left the planet's atmosphere, the Peacekeeper unit officer curled his lip in disgust as he stared at the slight _creature_ before him. Officer. Soren hated incompetence. He glared at the being standing pathetically, practically held up by his subordinates.

"Speak, girl. You said you saw four suspicious forms enter this alley. What species were they?"

The girl squeaked as her arms were suddenly released from the rough grip. Her tattooed face reddened in humiliation as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Wait, Officer it is unbecoming of a Peacekeeper to be so impatient. What would Scorpius say?"

The man was short and wiry. His handsome face looked down at her with dark impassive eyes.

"Lieutenant! Forgive me." The words were forced out of his lips as he glared at his superior. The Lieutenant was sickeningly devoted to that abomination. It was a perversion of regiment. A farce of command to let a half-breed gain so much power, but Lt. Soren was too competent a soldier to speak aloud his thoughts and opinions. Maybe Lt. Braca was the same and only followed the thing out of ambition rather than loyalty or respect.

"Settle down Lieutenant. Now child, answer the officer's questions."

"Umm… three were Sebaceans, two of those were probably Peacekeepers, sir. The other was a luxan. One of the Sebaceans dressed in clothes I have never seen and stood in front of that box. I think there is a strange technology in that box."

"Ahh, a technology you say? Why do you say that?" Braca was disgustingly sweet to the girl. Soren scowled at the interaction and forced himself to hold position. His superior officer certainly had learned some tricks from the half-breed scientist. His questions were masterfully manipulative.

"Stare at it sir. It moves in and out of your focus. I almost didn't notice it."

"A fascinating piece of technology. Now, girl tell me if you caught any names."

"I did, sir! They kept saying Crichton."

Soren had to roll his eyes. Crichton again. Did everything have to do with that human? He kept up with the gossip so he knew that Scorpius was completely obsessed with the _freelnik_.

Braca smiled. It was a hungry grin, complete with the predator look of anticipation that brightened the his eyes.

"Crichton? Excellent, you have provided us with useful information. You may leave, child." The girl smiled before bounding off into the crowd.

"Sir?"

Braca turned to face the box, every soldier's eye following, and waved a hand at the strange object. Soren obediently joined his squad in lifting the box, inwardly cursing another jaunt into the Uncharted Territories in pursuit of the Leviathan.

* * *

"Why is the blue box necessary, sir?"

Scorpius spared a glance at his subordinate.

"A new form of technology is rare, Lieutenant. Especially one who can help in Wormhole research. What I want you to find out is the identity of the box's owner. He is obviously with Crichton so I want to see what is special about him. This is a good day, Lt. Braca."

Scorpius stared at the box sitting in his Command Carrier, on route to his new Gammak Base.

It was a very good day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Wrapping her gloved hands around the backwards chair, Chiana watched the human pace back and forth in frustration. She wished once more that she was present during the events on the commerce planet, but unfortunately she slinked off with Zhaan and missed the whole _frelling_ show.

Luckily, she didn't come back empty handed. Yes, she learned her lesson from the trouble with Maldis, so no jewelry on this trip but a silken quilt that lay seductively on her bed just waiting to be used.

Chiana rested her head on her forearms and listened to the argument that issued between the John and Aeryn. It was about the mysterious Nixar that John, Aeryn, and D'Argo grabbed as they ran. Aeryn, unsurprisingly, didn't trust him. And Crichton, to her astonishment, argued in his favor. Well…maybe not that surprising.

She tilted her head as she considered the older man before her. Chiana could recall overhearing Crichton defending her to the others; he barely knew her must less trusted her and he was arguing for her to stay. Back then; the nebari couldn't believe that someone other then her brother would ever care enough to protect her. Yet, John Crichton did. And she loved him for it.

Now, watching him struggle to overcome his latest mind frellage, she was amazed at his compassion and his concern about others even when life beat on him again and again. Like she said to him when he split in three, his heart was what she loved most about him. She considered his fervent arguments on their guest's behalf; she would stand by him once more like he did for her. Hopefully the man locked in one of Moya's cells could appreciate what John was doing for him. Even after he had more than enough reason not to trust the decency of any frellnik in this sorry universe, he found enough compassion to back a stranger.

Stepping out to the tier, she made her way to the cell, curious to see just what made this man worthy of Crichton's trust. Her cat-like strides down the main tier went ignored by everyone except the DRD's that rolled at her feet.

* * *

The Doctor groaned, his hands pressing against his throbbing head as he pulled himself forward into a seated position. He should have been watching out for the luxan's tongue. He was so caught up in the man, John Crichton that he was struck unaware (no pun intended) by the poison. Why was it that he kept ending up getting locked up? He groaned, bending forward to rub his face before standing. The dizzying aftereffects would, he hoped, dissipate after a couple minutes.

"You okay?" The Doctor looked up and met the dark concerned eyes of a young girl. A nebari?

"Just a bit wobbly. Nothing to worry about." He gave a wide grin, wiggling his long fingers in a slight wave.

"Hello! I'm the Doctor. I seem to be… judging by the shape and texture of the walls and the coloring, on a Leviathan! Brilliant! Leviathans are magnificent creatures. But getting past that, the real question is why am I locked up and who are you?"

The nebari blinked, staring at him in surprise before answering.

"Chiana. How do you know about Leviathans? Crichton says you look like you're from Earth."

The Doctor was relieved that for once, there was no question about his name. 'Doctor? Doctor Who?' does get old after a while. Chiana was a sharp one, reminding him fondly of Ace. Ooh, he was getting old. The girl tilted her head, waiting for an answer and the Doctor smiled at her.

"I've been around. No, I'm not from Earth, but it's a lovely planet. You'll be surprised how much trouble that one little rock seems to attract. That reminds me, what year is it?"

"Frell! You don't know? D'Argo must have tongued you harder than we thought."

He gave a mock glare, deciding not to comment further. She would make a good companion. His joking look fell away as he reminded himself sharply that he wouldn't take anymore with him. Chiana stepped forward in concern before he forced a reassuring smile to spread across his face. He cleared his throat and looked around the small cell.

"So, why am I a prisoner?" It was a safe question; nothing personal and nothing dangerous. She shrugged, still watching him with sharp eyes. This one had the same look Donna would give him, eyes cutting through the lies of his well-being.

"_Is always alright some kind of time lord code for really not alright at all?" _

She was wise when it came to the feelings of others, striking to the heart of the problem and never backing down.

"Doctor?" He didn't realize she was speaking until he heard his name.

"What?" She opened her mouth to respond and was interrupted by the sharp voice that entered the room. The long strides stopped before the bars and the man looked at Chiana before turning his attention to the Doctor. He stared, focused on the brown haired man.

"So, I'll ask again now that a familiar face is here, am I a prisoner?" He made certain to keep his voice light, unassuming and friendly. The man, Crichton if memory served and it always did, frowned.

"It's weird. Normally I would say yes, keep you where we can be sure of your intentions. There's something strange about you, though,"

"So can I return to my ship? I was telling the truth earlier, I was just shopping, nothing dangerous."

"Ship? You mean that blue box? How can you fit in that?"

The Doctor was reluctant to get into the whole 'bigger on the inside' business with them. Chiana maybe, but the look in Crichton's eyes made him glance quickly at the pulse pistol sitting in his holster. He was shot before, and he had no wish to repeat the experience anytime soon.

At that moment, the peacekeeper walked in with a barely concealed look of tense apprehension. She glanced at the carefully controlled man leaning against the back wall and frowned.

"I still say you're farbot John, I don't trust him." Crichton tossed a look of annoyance in her direction.

"I know you don't trust him Aeryn. You never do."

She snorted, amused before turning her attention to the Doctor.

"You said you were shopping? Why then did Crichton think you were worth following?"

The Doctor smiled slightly, shrugging in an unassuming air. Aeryn rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Right, now can you understand why I don't believe you?"

He bit his lip while absently pulling on his ear with his long fingers. She sighed again, this time in frustration and glared at her audience.

"It was the clothes. I was suspicious." The Doctor let out an indignant "Hey!" and looked down at his outfit. What was wrong with his clothes? He loved the coat, and the trainers were good for running. He liked running, given how much he was engaging the activity. He let his attention return to his hosts and smiled a little at Chiana's amused purse of the lips. How she reminded him of Donna in that moment! The Doctor pushed down the lump that rose up in his throat at the thought of the ginger haired woman. Those thoughts did no good.

"Hey, what's your name again?" Oh, someone was talking to him.

"The Doctor." He watched as the man raised his eyebrows but didn't comment, simply shrugged as if weirder things happened, and given the company and his history, the human had his share of bizarre names.

"Right, _Doctor_. Aeryn here seems to think you are harmless enough and this was a waste of time. Fortunately for you, I guess she's right."

"I'm always right." The Doctor had to bite his lip, this time to hold his amusement. The banter was certainly familiar. They certainly cared for one another but to what degree, he didn't know. His many companions, especially Martha, taught him to pay attention to these things so he wouldn't make the same mistakes as he did with her. Unfortunately, he was bloody awful at domestics. Again, Martha taught him that.

"Anyway, aside from the clothes, I still don't get how anyone has clothes like that here. It's not like the Uncharted Territories has its own share of Bloomingdales. We wasted enough time and energy on your sorry ass."

"So I can go back to my ship?" The looks that passed between the three made him uncomfortable. Uh-oh.

"I can't leave." It wasn't a question and the sheepish look on the spiky haired human made his worry increase tenfold.

"Pilot told us that there was a Command Carrier in the vicinity of the planet before we left. About 20 metras away, we had to skedaddle." Oh, Rassilon! He was stuck here. Before recently, the Doctor would have reveled in the adventure that was looming before him. Oh looming! Good word, looming. Anyway, that was a before. Now, the last thing he wanted was another trouble to get involved in. This group certainly looked like a family, problems and all. With hysterical hilarity that held no humor, the Doctor realized that the family would not last long with him. Not with the shadow of trouble that followed him wherever he went. The last thing he needed was to get attached to another potential companion.

Looking at Chiana and even Crichton, he knew he had to watch himself around them. The whole lot of them was like a drug; he was addicted to their company. That made their eventual leaving and ruin even more painful. The Doctor made a promise to himself that Donna Noble would be the last life he destroyed and until now, the Doctor made sure no one would add to that list of torn lives. He _had_ to get out of here and back to the TARDIS before his need for companionship overruled his common sense. He didn't need more blood on his hands. He wouldn't destroy this family like he destroyed all the others as well as his own.

"Do you have a transport pod I can use to get back? I can go alone."

Crichton looked at the soldier, Aeryn, and shook his head apologetically.

"No can do Doc, we starburst away a while ago while you were out. We're too far away. You're stuck with us."

Rassilon! The day kept getting better and better!

"You can join us for dinner though, Doctor?" Chiana looked at her shipmates and to the Doctor's eyes, they exchanged long-suffering looks. Crichton shrugged at Aeryn and she frowned severely.

"The others won't be happy about it."

"Buckwheat never is. Worse case scenario, D'Argo can always tongue him again." She snorted, obviously agreeing and with a last studying glance at the Doctor, she left the room.

"Well, Pip, make sure this puppy isn't going to cause another problem." It was obviously a reference to a prior event and an inside joke if Chiana's eye roll was any indication. He smirked and pressed the button on the side of the cell and the bars slid away. The Doctor nodded his thanks and smiled at the twinkling eyes of the Nebari, though he ignored the leer that she gave him as she examined his thin form.

"Anywaay, now that I'm out, can I have my stuff back?"

"Seeing as how you don't have any weapons on you I don't see why not. How do you hold all that crap-dren" for Chiana's benefit, "in your pockets anyway?"

The Doctor bounced on the heels of his feet, swaying back and forth as he gave an enigmatic smile.

"A magician never tells." A spark entered Crichton's blue-green eyes at the offhand comment. The man gave a sharp nod, the suspicious look finally disappearing.

"Right." The flat voice made the Doctor realize that he may have to give the 'bigger on the inside' speech after all. An awkward silence rose between them so the Doctor abruptly changed the subject. He rubbed his hands together and gave a wide, completely false, grin.

"So dinner? Molto bene!" He followed Chiana down the hall, not seeing the dark look of suspicion icing John Crichton's gaze.


	3. Chapter 3

Whom Gods Destroy Chapter 3

Chapter 3

John Crichton could confidently say that he had seen a lot of strange things out in this part of the galaxy. Living ships, plant people, critters that screw with you until your mind could no longer tell which way was up or down, even chairs that scramble your brain so badly that you turn to stone or even to insanity to escape from becoming a gibbering wreck. John Crichton knew evil. John Crichton knew crazy and terror. John Crichton had even seen things that could twist anyone's morality into something that is no longer recognizable.

John Crichton had never seen anyone quite like the Doctor.

The guy in no way could be a Sebacean, much less a Peacekeeper with the open childlike wonder that he exuded at everything around him – his shear total curiosity. Zhaan did a simple check on the guy when he was out and also concluded that the Doctor was not any species that she was familiar with. If John hadn't already crossed out human from the list, then his next question would've been, "Is he from Earth?"

John knew otherwise. For one thing, the man had two hearts and a lower body temperature that was in no way human. He had never been implanted with translator microbes, yet they could understand each other just fine. He could've even sworn that the man spoke English back on the planet, which to his mind was just another affirmative to his growing contention that just because you are paranoid doesn't mean you don't have enemies. And then there was the fact that the Doctor wore a pin-striped suit, a worn beige raincoat along with Chucks; and he not only knew earth idioms and trivia, but seemed totally tickled with the humor provided by their use in front of aliens – that homey feeling of confounding and confusing everyone around him. The so-called Doctor had no weapons, yet his pockets held more crap inside them than could be held by a normal pin-striped suit. It was enough to make Chuck Norris nervous.

Almost every part of the mystery screamed for John to grab Winona and demand that the "Doctor" cease the act. There was a part of his mind, however, that told him that hurting the guy was a very stupid move. But when did he ever do anything that wasn't stupid? That same part of his mind, a part he neglected listening to in a long time, told him to trust the strange alien. The Doctor seemed like a protective talisman who was in some way preventing those random sightings of Scorpy that had been bugging him more and more in the past couple of weeks. That flea in his ear wasn't whispering about wormholes at all. John could almost believe that the puka was lying low, waiting for an answer as to who the Doctor was. Well, John was glad for the silence.

The trust that the Doctor generated in him was calming, strangely nurturing. Scorpy was quiet. The Doctor could be trusted. It was so simple it was almost suspicious. But Scorpy was quiet. Scorpy left him alone.

And that fact by itself made John Crichton certain that he could trust the Doctor.

The Doctor grinned as he tenderly stroked the inner walls of the ship. He could almost imagine his sitter eyeing him in bemusement as he cooed over the pilot's console. He begged Crichton to take him around the ship and was pleasantly surprised when the human agreed. The looks that were tossed at him said a lot about his new acquaintance. He couldn't say "friend". "Friend" was too informal and it meant he cared. The Doctor couldn't care. Caring meant getting attached and getting attached was something he couldn't risk. Acquaintance was a good word. It meant that he could leave without risk of destroying this family. He really shouldn't even be looking around. Curiosity was bad. But, unfortunately, the Doctor couldn't resist his innate wonder of new experiences.

Turning to Pilot, the Doctor gave a smile as the ship's navigator gave John a questioning look. At his nod, the Doctor allowed his curiosity to envelope him.

"Moya is a glorious ship. You should be proud. And I'm sure she 's proud of you as well."

"Thank you."

"It has been a long time since I spoke with a Leviathan, lifetimes even. She told me a lot of good things about you and the others."

"You…spoke to Moya?" The Pilot's eyes widened in astonishment and the Doctor brushed off the amazement with a wave of the hand.

"I speak many languages."

"You carry no translator microbes yet we can understand each other."

"Like I said, I speak many languages."

John took this moment to speak up. He was watching silently up until this point. The Doctor had forgotten he was there and gave a little jump when Crichton entered the conversation.

"Back on the planet, I could have sworn you spoke English. Dee thought you were speaking Luxan and Aeryn thought you were chit-chatting in Sebacean. And now, you're telling me you haven't been implanted? On my first day, I couldn't understand a word anybody said and you have no trouble. I don't buy your answer, man."

"It's complicated."

"You're not human."

"No."

"You've been on Earth."

"Many times."

"You're not Sebacean."

"No."

He could tell his answers were vague, but that was the intention. The paranoid human wouldn't really deal well with learning about the telepathic capabilities of himself and his ship. He would be shot, and that was never fun.

"There's a thing my ship does. Think of it like a translator microbe."

"The blue box? That's really a ship?"

"I told you."

"What are you?"

"It doesn't matter. You never heard of me. Nobody in this area of space has."

"Right."

Yeah, that was sarcasm.

Ignoring the combative human for the moment, the Doctor turned to the bemused face of Pilot.

"Anyway, I really need to return to my ship. Is there any way we could go back to the Commerce Planet?"

"It may take a couple arns."

"Thank you. And Crichton? We can continue our little chat back in my quarters."

"Fine. But you better not lie to me."

The Doctor nodded reluctantly, the upcoming conversation would not be fun. But it was unavoidable. It seemed he would have to stay for a while. He knew the dangers inherent in that. He would be vigilant about his emotions. It was not like he didn't know how to be alone. Nope, his problem as he well knew was that he really liked company. And Moya's crew as certainly intriguing. No, he would shut off his interest. He would not get attached. But it would be hard as he was starting to like these people, and that was the start of the downward slope. If his "like" grew to "friend" he knew well that he better be ready to go to the funerals as he would soon be burying his new "acquaintances". And that was a fact.

4


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"We have to talk, now. And you better not lie to me, man!"

The Doctor nodded, his expression grim as he studied the angry-faced man standing across from him. Crichton was right, having all their secrets laid out before them would be a lot less stressful for both of them in the long-run. Having an _ally_, (the word, he mused was a lot safer than friend) would make the time stuck in one place a lot easier to bear.

"What do you want to know?"

"You've been to Earth right? Of course you have. It's either that or I'm being messed with again. And buddy, I'm very tired of being toyed with here. Who are you really? I've held my tongue so far because you seem harmless, but you know things that nobody on any planet I've been to so far knows about. Who the hell are you?!"

"I'm The Doctor."

Suddenly, Crichton gave a harsh laugh completely devoid of humor. It was barely sane.

"Yeah. 'The Doctor' That's another thing we need to chat about, hombre. There're no 'doctors' here, man. And none on Earth who wear those clothes or act like you. So," John tried to count to ten, his fisted hands trembling with his increasingly uncontrollable frustration, "I'll ask you again. Who the hell are you?"

"Really, I am the Doctor. I'm sorry if you're looking for something else. There's nothing else I can give you."

"You're not human." It wasn't a question. And there was that underlying threat telling the Doctor that the human before him was beyond desperation and moving towards violence. He could see him trembling. There was so little trust in both their universes. The Doctor sighed and against his own reservations, responded.

"No, Crichton. I'm not human."

"Sebacean? You don't look like a Peacekeeper."

"No. I'm not a Peacekeeper. Or a Sebacean."

"You know Maldis? Or Delvians?"

He didn't know who Maldis was and the only Delvian that he had met was the lovely Zhaan. And that was only a few hours ago. The Doctor eyed the suspicious human and shook his head slowly.

"A Scarran,then? No, I don't feel any warmer nor are you the least bit scaley and only slightly horse-faced." John was talking to himself again and not liking the mystery or the fact that he fell into his own head so easily.

"So, you are definitely not Sheeang, Luxan, Nebari, or from the Land Of Misfit Toys (although that might be a place where things would make more sense). You must be something new."

The Doctor was rocking back and forth on his heels watching the human run through the logic and come up empty. It was always at this point that things got dicey when talking to humans. They just had to compartmentalize, label, stamp, and name everything. He shook his head in bemusement, then gently said, "I'm not here to hurt you. I told the truth earlier. Crichton. I'm the Doctor. That's who I am. Really, honestly."

Just as he expected, suddenly, the Doctor was forcefully pressed to the wall. His coat held by the lapels by strong hands. Crichton's crystal-blue eyes were narrowed and his face was so close to his own that the Doctor could feel the harsh breath against his skin as the human harshly whispered.

"I. Don't. Believe. You."

It was pretty clear that all the information about John Crichton didn't do justice to just how close to insanely paranoid the man had become. This was a person who was desperate for truth, yet when he was given it, could no longer accept or hear it. The Doctor hated resorting to physical violence, but knew that in this situation, it was that or receive something that really hurt. He wasn't in the mood for hurt. So, the Doctor reached up and grabbed the man's wrists, and pulled them away from his coat and held steady, disarming the human and barely breaking into a sweat.

John hissed in anger and glared at the Doctor. But underneath his outward signs of anger, the red face, frowning mouth, glaring eyes could be seen the real John Crichton – a terrified and lonely soul who had been mentally abused beyond the point where he could defend himself. The Doctor saw all this in a flash. He had to help, even if it went against his self-made promise to lay off. There was too much riding on the sanity of the man now shaking in his grip. The Doctor swallowed, but continued to hold the human's gaze. He loosened his grip, just enough to gain Crichton's attention.

"I have been to Earth many times, John. I am not lying to you. I was not lying when I said what I said before. I was not lying when I said my name was the Doctor. I am not a Scarran, a Peacekeeper, a Delvian, or this Maldis."

It was strange. Strange to speak so gravely and so solemnly. But he didn't know how else to make Crichton understand.

"You could be lying. The whole universe lies. Why should I believe you? All I have is your word that you are some weird-ass travelling medical miracle worker. You still haven't answered my question. All you do is talk in riddles."

The voice was rough and hoarse. It was all the Doctor could do to reign in his compassion. He promised himself that he wouldn't get attached, but everything in him screamed for him to help. Crichton was broken in a too familiar way. Like he was and in many ways, still was.

"You wouldn't know."

"Don't you dare patronize me you son of a bitch. Tell. The. Truth. What. Are. You."

Many people have told him over the years that he was too impulsive. He felt he had to trust this angry, troubled, creature. This all too human person. Impulsive to a fault, at this moment, he agreed.

"A Time Lord."

"Should I bow to you?"

"Really. I'm a Time Lord."

"Lord of Time. Right. "

"Someone has to do it."

The joke was maybe a little much but he had to lighten the mood somehow.

"I never heard of you guys before…but I've seen so many different critters that nothing surprises me anymore."

'You guys.' He was almost surprised at the jolt of pain that comment provoked.

"So should I be expecting any more like you in my neck of the woods?"

"No. No one like me." He wouldn't say anymore. He didn't know Crichton and he didn't make it a habit of sharing everything about himself. Martha and Donna maybe, but not to a stranger. He wasn't that impulsive.

"So this ship. What kind is it? It's a little small."

"It's bigger on the inside."

"Really? That's cool." It was sad how flat that comment was. Too forced to be normal humor. And too familiar.

"Time lord science."

"So that's how there's so much crap in those pockets of yours."

He had to smile at that.

"Yep. Bigger on the inside. That's me."

* * *

A part of him was excited at learning that the Doctor was a 'time lord', whatever that was.

John found himself shaken by a compulsion that came seemingly out of nowhere. He felt excited but it was as if he was standing outside of himself watching someone else take over his thoughts. He couldn't even fight this urge to know because he just had to, had to learn. He shook his head to relieve himself of its sudden buzzing behind his ear. Hell, it hurt. The rational Crichton knew that there was no way he should know or care so much what a "time lord" was or wasn't, but an errant thought became a powerful push. Time Lord = Wormholes. He was compelled to voice this suspicion.

"You know about wormholes?"

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow at the question and shot John a puzzled look before answering in a pseudo cheerful voice. To anyone else, the humor in the man's voice would sound real and somewhat manic. But this joviality never reached the Doctor's eyes.

"Of course. My people practically invented wormholes. In fact, they did. Why do you ask?"

The words were again forced through John's lips.

"No reason, Doctor. Just curious. It's how I got here. Shot through a wormhole. Ironic really. I've got everybody, Nosferatu, Godzilla, God-like critters, the whole universe searching everywhere to put my head on a dissection table. And suddenly, out of nowhere comes the guy who knows everything about the blue beauties and just like that," he snapped his now released fingers, "lands on my ship."

The scariest part of it, John thought, was it could have been him saying those same words. He could feel the Doctor's eyes on him. Eyes that looked, really looked at his dilated pupils, the sweaty forehead, and paleness.

"John? What's wrong?" He couldn't answer. He didn't even know anything was wrong. Suddenly, everything stopped and John felt his back pressed to the wall and he sunk to the ground. He felt like he'd been on one of those benders he'd been partaking of too often lately. He was numb from his eyeballs to the tips of his toes. It felt like a night drinking so hard before a final exam, like he had done a couple times with D.K.

"Crichton? You okay?"

Why was the Doctor kneeling over him? He tried to speak, but his jaw was cramped and hurt like a bitch. All that escaped was a small moan.

He looked up and gasped as he gazed over the Doctor's shoulder. He tried to reach for his gun but the Doctor's grip on his arm was too strong. He doubted he could grasp his pulse pistol with his rubber fingers anyway. He struggled as Scorpius stepped closer and closer.

"Let me go! It's Scorpius! I have to kill him! Let me go!" he finally cried.

"There's no Scorpius, John. Calm down!" yelled Aeryn.

When did Aeryn get here? And why wasn't anyone moving? The Doctor stared at him grimly with big brown eyes that screamed at him with pity. The 'time lord's' fingers moved swiftly to his temples and pressed gently in a strategic fashion. Suddenly, like someone had released a bathtub plug, all the pressure and noise in his head drained away leaving a feeling of weak calmness in its wake. Both Scorpius and Aeryn disappeared. There was only the Doctor and himself.

_"John? You can relax now John. Everything is fine. I won't look at anything you don't want me to see. Just imagine a door and close it. Yes. Like that. "_

"You're in my mind?! Get out." John snarled, violently shaking his head to remove the new intrusion.

Suddenly, the Doctor removed his fingers and reached out a hand and without thinking, John accepted the offered help.

"You said you weren't like the others. Why the hell were you in my mind, _Doctor_?"

"I was just trying to help."

"Well don't." John pulled himself painfully up from the floor using the Doctor's arm as a lever and staggered out of the cell, ignoring the looks of concern that followed him. He looked around and stopped suddenly. Scorpius was gone and the whispers that beckoned at him in the back of his mind were silent. For the moment. He swallowed before turning to the Doctor.

"And… thanks."

The Doctor nodded in silence and in that moment of respect and understanding grew a small seed of hope.

Maybe the Doctor was telling him the truth.


End file.
